Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Dignity of Commuting by Bicycle: Cold-Blooded Murder

(Finding the leak.)

This morning, as I was riding up Avenue A along Tomkins Square Park, something fell out of the air and into the bike lane right in front of me. It looked like a balled-up rust brown sweater that had been thrown from a top floor window. "What new indignity is this?," I sighed to myself. "Are cyclists being pelted with dirty laundry now?"

As I drew closer and stopped though I realized it wasn't a sweater at all. It was in fact a terrier-sized hawk with a beak that looked like it could tear a Rivendell Roly Poly off a Mavic MA-2 with minimal effort, and it was standing atop a very nonplussed-looking pigeon. I beheld it with awe for a moment until it flew across the sidewalk and perched itself upon an iron fence, the poor pigeon very much alive and dangling from the hawk's talons.

The hawk looked back at me with typical hawk-like sang-froid, and the pigeon looked at me at me with resignation and a sense of inevitability. (Well, admittedly it was the same expression they have when they pick crumbs from discarded Twinkie wrappers, but they look resigned and possessed of a sense of inevitability when they do that too.) I felt like I had walked in on a fraternity brother taking advantage of an intoxicated sorority sister. Then, I realized I had my camera on me, but in my typical fashion I fumbled with it like a Nü-Fred trying to work a multi-tool and by the time I managed to turn the thing on the hawk decided to take off in search of a quieter place to tear the pigeon apart. I did, however, manage to get a picture of the pair just as they departed:

The hawk is pretty well camouflaged and almost looks like a big knot in the tree, but it's there, and so is the pigeon. I'm assuming the hawk is a red-tailed hawk, since according to the field guide I purchased at the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge awhile back they're pretty common around here, and I have seen similar hawks picking at carcasses in the parks every so often. Here's a closer look:

It almost looks like the hawk has its talon around the pigeon's shoulder and like it's simply leading it away someplace where they can chat in private, but even though I'm no ornithologist I'm pretty sure that's not what the hawk has in mind. By the way, I wasn't the only fascinated onlooker. My photograph also reveals a delighted child enjoying the scene:

A little smaller and he might have been in danger himself.

Anyway, after that the kid and I grabbed a beer together and reflected on how beautiful it is that you can watch nature at work in its most basic way even right in the middle of the city. Ordinarily I find bike lane intrusions irritating, but I welcome little miniature nature documentaries like this one any day. I would be similarly delighted if a family of beavers dammed up the new bi-directional bike lane that now runs along Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, and would simply welcome it as an opportunity to practice my cyclocross remounts.

Speaking of encountering little delights while riding, a number of people have informed me that the city of Copenhagen somehow continues to devise new ways of pleasing its bicycle commuters. The latest is this little footrest, forwarded to me by a number of readers, which means that cyclists no longer have to go through the trouble of extending their feet all the way to the street at red lights:

The translation for what's written on the footrest is: "Hi, cyclist! Rest your foot here... and thank you for cycling in the city." Presumably, this photograph was taken just before the city's "Intersection Cycling Pleasure Squad" arrived to clean the rider's glasses, rub his shoulders, and check his air pressure. While some might argue that with this Copenhagen has overshot "improvement" by about three or four blocks and is now deep in the neighborhood known as "coddling," I personally think they've still got a ways to go and I'm looking forward to the implementation of the new bathroom "home wiping for cyclists" service sometime in the spring.

Sadly, we will probably never see this level of coddling in New York City, for the simple reason that our bicycle commuters believe the act of putting your foot down while cycling at any point is a despicable act of surrender. This is true of all cyclists: Nü-Freds, roadies, messengers, Beautiful Godzillas, the "fitness cyclist" wearing a sweatsuit while riding a hybrid, and even the irritable "Finding Forrester" guy who rides a three-speed and only leaves his apartment once a month to have painfully protracted interactions with postal clerks and bank tellers as people waiting on line groan impatiently behind him. For this reason, any intersection footrests would go unused. Consider the gentleman in the purple pants:

I found myself riding behind the gentleman in the purple pants recently and he exhibited typical New York City-style intersection behavior. Upon approaching the red light, he shoaled me and struggled awkwardly to slow his brakeless track bike, and then rolled through the crosswalk and into the intersection, where he proceeded to trackstand. However, he was unable to maintain the trackstand for the duration of the red light. He struggled valiantly, but eventually he was forced to do the unthinkable and put his foot down. At this point, a weaker-willed rider might resign himself to waiting and move out of the way of oncoming traffic, but the gentleman in the purple pants instead attempted to salvage his dignity by crossing the busy intersection by means of an incredibly awkward fixed-gear "schluff." If you've ever seen a fixed-gear "schluff," it's a horrible sight--more so even than a traditional "schluff." A traditional "schluffer" stands next to the bicycle, but the fixed-gear "schluffer" continues to straddle the bicycle and pushes him- or herself along with one foot while the other remains in the toe clip rotating along with the crankarm. It's as graceless as a hawk swooping down and grabbing a pigeon is graceful, but ultimately just as tragic.

In any case, had there been a footrest there I very much doubt the gentleman in the purple pants would have availed himself of it. Cyclists here prefer to press on regardless of how unreasonable it may be to continue. I, however, would make frequent use of intersection footrests. Whether it's a hawk attack or a fixed-gear "schluff," I prefer to rest comfortably and enjoy the carnage.

One day near the end of cycling season, I pulled up out of the metropolitan park and onto a neighborhood street I cut through to get home. I heard some sort of pop, and as I rode along right next to me, nearly onto me a dead squirrel hurtled head first from a utility pole to the pavement. Thud! I told myself, Snobbie, this is not somesort of Greek omen, --it's just a dead squirrel--that eff'n got electorcuted at the precise moment I turned the corner and nearly hit me on the head.

I very often repurpose curbs, retaining walls, jersey barriers, lost 'Bump-its' and truck tires as footrests. The 'median' thingy at the Manhattan end of the Manhattan bridge works very well too.

I like to sit there a watch other cyclists cut in front of traffic comming off the bridge while I get scowled at by elderly denizens of Chinatown for being on what they believe is their sidewalk that someone mistakenly painted a yellow line on.

had a squirrel miss sticking the landing on a branch overhead and dropped with a wet "thwop" into the middle of a group ride. Not sure who was more surprised. Little bastard was fast to get out of there though.

I witnessed something similar to the hawk incident a few weeks ago. It was one of the coldest days of the winter so Central Park was almost empty, but as I entered I noticed a crowd of people in the middle of the drive near the Boathouse. I wondered if some stupid publicity stunt was occurring but as I got closer I noticed an incredibly large owl--plumage completely white--sitting on a very low branch and clutching a dead squirrel in its giant talons. Actually, I believe the squirrel was impaled on the talons rather than simply being held by them.

It was such a serene scene that I wondered if the owl was real, but as I approached the tree on my second lap it was gone. There were at least a dozen people with cameras snapping photographs, but I've yet to find it online.

So much nature! A red-tailed hawk and a purple-panted nu-Fred, all on one excursion (the latter being the more feared). Upstate, we have deer that sometimes body-block cyclists in the road, but human predators tend to be middle-schoolers who think salmoning is the preferred form of urban cycling.

Interesting coincidence, while coming home to Oklahoma from Kansas this weekend, we spotted 35-40 redtail hawks at various points across the miles. Most were just sitting up in the trees, a few were flying, I saw none carrying small children though. It must be the difference between rural chilluns and city chilluns. While rural children are more likely to be free-range and thus vulnerable to raptor attack, they typically are packing heat or at least some type of fixed blade.

The guy with the purple pants is German. Back in the day (the 90s) you could identify a German by his/her red jeans. They caught on to this, and are now wearing polychromatic jeans, but still cool eyeglasses.

I wonder if the city would be willing to install these automobile intersection coddling devices, or AICDs, in NYC. If they provided the following items I'm reasonably sure it would be surprisingly successful:

CC:periodization is an important and often overlooked aspect of monster/warrior-making. You might consider a rest day for the little guy where he just works on abs. That 300 look does not come from just pushing stuff around day and night. There's a science to the art.

Very impressive action shot. I must say, as I was reading I was getting ready to be disappointed knowing that any picture you might get even on a good day would be blurry and out of frame etc. That is a commendable effort for one who is fumbling like a "Nu-Fred".

I saw a pedestrian get hit by a cab in NYC once but I didn't get a picture...I must have been fumbling like a drunk Nu-Fred riding without a saddle.

Ah wildlife observation. Numerous times my spider senses have alerted me to deer off to the side in dense cover. I also like the small birds that will pace along side somtimes for a considerable distance. I think they are just bored or trying to get a closer look at the funny bike.

Well at least your german had pants. Back when I was a kid germans didn’t have pants. If you wanted to make fun of one who was shoaling you, you had to slip up behind him real sneaky, hoping he wouldn’t stand up out of the saddle and show you his big ole german crack before you asked him if he had Prince Albert in a can. Not like these hipster cyclists today who have everything handed to them.

It looked pretty big to me--especially when its wings were closed--but I'll defer to any wildlife experts out there. All I know is it can fly and it likes pigeons and I'm pretty sure it was not a duck.

I like the footrest. When I rollerblade I'm always looking for something to help reduce my speed and/or stop besides clinging onto the local smurfs. Maybe it can be part of the America Reinvestment Act or whatever...

CC:OK, whew! I thought that you were just doing a straight-up ole skool Prometheus approach. Good to know that you have a sensible regime backed up with the power of num-nums. Which is what every child should be calorie-loading with anyway.

Do you have his event/sport picked out for him? Oh wait you did say he was 3, of course you've got it, silly me. It's not like you are a duathelete or something.

Nice i.d. on the hawk. That's definitely a red-tailed hawk. I could go into a longish treatise on the various field marks, but suffice it to say that a red-tailed hawk's tail is red when viewed from above, but the underneath is buffy colored (unless strongly backlit then the red shows through to the underside.) Thus in the parlance, it is not necessarily a controlling fieldmark, but it is one of several that are diagnostic of the species. The only falcon that can handle something as large as a pigeon is a peregrine, and they have an entirely different coloration (colorway?) from this bird. New York City is full of red-tailed hawks now, and they have adapted to catching pigeons, rodents and rabbits being their more natural prey outside the city.

I may not have seem a hawk in action today, but on my way in to work, I did pass a fender-bender. Luckily, nobody was seriously hurt, but one of the drivers was insured by GEICO. Turns out they sent out an actual lizard to adjust the claim, so I did have my own wildlife encounter on my way to work today.

I agree that the raptor is a Red Tailed Hawk. Here is a cool website for those interested in them. Even has cool hawk sounds. Cornell lab of ornithology http://www.allaboutbirds.org/NetCommunity/Page.aspx?pid=1189

I had a red-tailed hawk catch a cardinal in my backyard a couple of months ago. The cardinal hit the window, shocking everyone in the house. I went outside and saw the hawk grab it in its talons and fly away.

On the bike, during my days of being able to ride, A bobcat ran up beside me for a second and then it cut right in front of me. Funniest thing, the sound that came out of me was closest to barking. Almost hit a large cat and I "Barked" at it, it scared me so bad.

Snob, I have tried to take photos of Red Tailed Hawks. I have never been able to get a decent photo of one even though I was using my real camera with the 70/300 lense with Image Stabilization. Where the Hawks live, there is a pair of bald eagles on the other side of the road. I have been able to get plenty of shots of them.

Mr. Snob, that pigeon looked at you with resignation and a sense of inevitability, the same way Cadel Evans looks when he gets 2nd place on yet another Tour de France or Dauphiné Libéré Crit. That should have been your analogy. The pigeon+crumbs in Twinkie wrappers bit is cheesy.Sorry, just wanted to point out that lately you've been breaking the rules of your own style guide on a regular basis.

I got pecked in the head once by a red winged blackbird. Weird thing was, I was on the way to buy my first bicycle helmet. It was one of those original Bells, made of steel I think and with little NACA-approved air inlet vents. Haven't been pecked in the head since! Did run over a snake once, though.

I got pecked in the head once by a red winged blackbird. Weird thing was, I was on the way to buy my first bicycle helmet. It was one of those original Bells, made of steel I think and with little NACA-approved air inlet vents. Haven't been pecked in the head since! Did run over a snake once, though.

Eric-M35-39, I read the piece again, and I do not think BSNYC's fraternity analogy can be seen to condone date rape. Satire can often border on bad taste, but I think BSNYC does a good job of offending only those who truly deserve it, such as purple-panted nu-Freds.

I can't believe I'm actually defending myself here, but I was not making a joke about rape. I was just describing the scene. I think one animal grasping another dying animal in its razor-sharp talons before tearing it apart and eating it warrants a strong simile.

Snob, Great post. Though I wonder how long the pigeon stays alive after the hawk starts tearing into it.

Have you seen the blog post, via Gothamist, about the hawk that flew into an East Village restaurant (and onto someone's plate of chicken)? Fascinating read: http://gothamist.com/2009/06/19/hawk_bird_of_prey_seeks_meal_at_eas.php. My favorite line: "The hawk just sat there for a little while, getting jerk BBQ sauce all over its talons and looking all emo ..."

I got on my bike today and pedaled aimlessly for no reason, for many hours. Then wrote about it on my blog. If I keep repeating this moronic behavior, someday I will be good at something and will win the big prize.

It's not like I'm running away from any underlying issues or anything. I'm not, really...note to self- after your workout today, crack yourself in the skull with a u-lock.

I have witnesses many cougars in Manhattan and was even attacked for m on two separate occasions. Cougars with a taste for bike meat can always be viewed in their natural habitat - The Runcible Spoon Bakery in Nyack on Weekday afternoons pawing over a Cappuccino and a swiss and avaocado with bean sprouta half-sandwhich before she feeds on her shaved leg prey.

your writing warms in dull pools on my floor like so much last's night booze puke. fuck you. why are you trying to be a writer? you try and you fail. you write like a fat fuck fucks, poorly and with not even a surprise pinkie up the butt at the end. cheap beer tastes bad, but your writing leaves shit-stains on my eyes. kill yourself.

your writing warms in dull pools on my floor like so much last's night booze puke. fuck you. why are you trying to be a writer? you try and you fail. you write like a fat fuck fucks, poorly and with not even a surprise pinkie up the butt at the end. cheap beer tastes bad, but your writing leaves shit-stains on my eyes. kill yourself.

your writing warms in dull pools on my floor like so much last's night booze puke. fuck you. why are you trying to be a writer? you try and you fail. you write like a fat fuck fucks, poorly and with not even a surprise pinkie up the butt at the end. cheap beer tastes bad, but your writing leaves shit-stains on my eyes. kill yourself.

your writing warms in dull pools on my floor like so much last's night booze puke. fuck you. why are you trying to be a writer? you try and you fail. you write like a fat fuck fucks, poorly and with not even a surprise pinkie up the butt at the end. cheap beer tastes bad, but your writing leaves shit-stains on my eyes. kill yourself.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!